


Walkers Rejoice

by AngelSelene



Series: Stars that Have People Names [2]
Category: Gundam Wing
Genre: (just a tiny bit), Fluff, Holidays, M/M, Spacer Culture, a little bit of sex, between GW and Endless Waltz
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-25
Updated: 2020-12-25
Packaged: 2021-03-10 17:28:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,302
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28320909
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AngelSelene/pseuds/AngelSelene
Summary: As the year after the Eve War comes to a close, Duo gets to introduce Heero to the Festivals, the holiday celebrations that Spacers have developed, as Heero becomes an honorary Walker.Walkers remember. Walkers recognize. Walkers rejoice.
Relationships: Duo Maxwell/Heero Yuy
Series: Stars that Have People Names [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1704880
Comments: 24
Kudos: 32





	Walkers Rejoice

**Author's Note:**

> This was supposed to be part of the Duo and Heero's Firsts side story I'm working on, but it grew to be its own thing so it's getting its own entry. I know this year has been a beast, so some fluff and worldbuilding for everyone for the holiday. Merry Christmas and Happy Holidays for however you celebrate!

_ First Festival ~ Walkers Remember _

Duo is priming the canister for the cake when Heero comes in.

“What are you doing?” he asks. When Duo looks over, he sees the slightest furrow of Heero’s brows, the way they do when he’s confused.

“Baking,” Duo informs.

“With an aerosolized canister?”

Duo rolls his eyes, but he’s in too good of a mood to rise to the bait. “It’s for microwave cake.”

“Why?”

“Because it’s an easy cake to make in space?” Duo says, curious.

Heero crosses his arms, not quite fidgeting, but only because he’s Heero and he doesn’t fidget. “But why are you making a cake? And what is going on with everyone today? I came in from my shift, and everyone was very… cheerful.”

Duo blinks at him dumbly for a moment before it clicks. “Right, colonist, not Walker,” he says. “It’s First Festival.”

The blank look Heero gives him means that it does not compute.

“First Festival? C’mon, ’Ro, you can’t tell me that you’ve never heard that you can’t get Spacers to do anything during the Festivals, right?”

“The Spacer holidays?” Heero asks, clarifying.

“Yeah,” Duo says, spraying the cake batter into the baking iron. It’s not unlike a commercial waffle iron, but any respectable Spacer ship has their own custom pattern on the iron. _Second Star to the Right_ has a couple of stylized starbursts and what looks like a fairy trail. The cakes he’s making are somewhere between a waffle and cake batter, and it’s a cake Duo has never had anywhere except on a Spacer ship during the Festivals.

“Keep forgetting flyboy is a ringlover,” Peetey, a born Spacer who has probably barely ever set foot on a colony, never mind solid ground, chirps from where he’s making the air-fried cookies. His speech has that lilting, musicality of the Spacer dialect, and he usually has to work to not sink into the creole with Heero. On a ship named for Peter Pan, someone named Peetey automatically becomes the ship’s good-luck charm. Peetey is also the ship chef, and Duo is the only one on the ship who has managed to prove himself to Peetey, making him Peetey’s new best friend until all the Festival goodies are done.

“What does that have to do with anything?” Heero asks.

“It’s a compliment,” Duo tells him. You’d think after nearly a year on Spacer ships, Heero would be more accustomed to Spacer ways, but he still gets a little offset on occasion. “You know Walkers don’t let outsiders in much.”

Heero pulls out the stool and sits down across from Duo. “I’ve heard of the holidays. Dr. J used to complain about them every year.”

Peetey laughs, a deep, rumbling belly laugh. “Bugs bitch so much. Walkers work all day, every day all year. Take thirteen days, and Feedstock got more business than know what to do with.”

“Feedstock?” Heero asks.

Duo really ought to stop acting as the translator between Heero and the Spacers at this point. There are still key bits of Spacer culture Heero hasn’t quite picked up between Duo being an intermediary and the Spacers themselves being reserved with Heero. “Feedstock are the guys who work in space, but they’re not Walkers,” he explains, using the Spacer-preferred term for themselves. “The people for who being in space is a job, not a way of life.”

Heero sighs. Nuances with people are things he’s still learning. It’s pretty common for Crawlers—outsiders—to think that anyone who runs a ship in space is a Spacer. Even colonists often conflate Spacer and Feedstock. Considering how insular Spacers are, it’s not surprising that people don’t necessarily pick up on the subtleties.

The Festivals aren’t subtle, but they’re virtually sacred to Spacers, so aside from _Walkers don’t work_ during the Festivals, few Crawlers really knew anything about them. Duo has to remind himself that before he got picked up by G and Howard, _he_ didn’t know about them.

“The Festivals are held over thirteen days. Howard told me thirteen came from the eight days of Hannukah and five days of Diwali, but they probably just used it as an excuse to make the Festivals thirteen days, since thirteen is a lucky number anyway.”

Heero nods at that. He might think superstitions are stupid, but it’s impossible to miss how much Spacers revere their lucky thirteen. The iron timer goes off, and Duo pops it open, carefully prying the cake out while he remembers Howard explaining the Festivals to him for the first time.

“So dirtsiders got a lot of holidays in winter, right? There’s Diwali and Hanukkah and Christmas, right? And the US has Thanksgiving, and most Spacers were originally from L2, so they were kind of US-American hot mess, right?”

“Right,” Heero says, sounding annoyed while Duo refills the iron.

“So the Festivals are in three parts—First Festival is about remembering. It’s…” he trails off, trying to think of the words to explain it.

“Walkers remember. Walkers recognize. Walkers rejoice,” Peetey intoned.

“Remember…?” Heero prompts.

The words have helped Duo remember though. “First Festival remembers,” he says. “The first four days are the First Festival—Walkers remember. We remember those who have gone before us, those who have been lost. Remember where we came from and what we believed. We remember those who have sacrificed. While we remember, we pay respects, and we prepare foods for the Second and Third Festivals. We also set up the lights, remembering when we were on Earth, remembering the winter solstice, the longest day of the year, appreciating light coming back. In addition to baking and cooking, Walkers set up lights.” He nods to the red and blue lights that had been placed around the perimeter of the room. They would appear all over the ship over the course of the day and stay up until the end of the Festivals.

Heero nods after a moment, and Duo smiles, knowing that pretty much everything has been committed to memory. “Is there anything I can do to help?”

Duo grins. “Why don’t you go get some rest, first? I know you were up on the third rotation.”

They may have been given berth on a Sweeper ship to level out, find some peace, and figure out what they wanted their next steps to be without the world’s eyes bearing down on them, but they still have to earn their keep. That means taking rotations, just like every other Spacer, but they have more than enough skills between the two of them to be able hands.

At the reminder that he’d been up the whole night cycle and then some, Heero yawns. “I’ll catch five.”

“Six,” Duo says sternly. “Hours, not minutes. I’m going to be baking all day with Peetey for my rotation. Might as well get some good rest in.”

“Rest then remember,” Peetey advises with gravitas, before smiling, his teeth very bright against his dark skin. “Only Walkers are welcome at the Festivals. As welcomed, an honorary Walker, you become. But Walkers must remember.”

Duo can see that Heero doesn’t entirely get it, but he nods seriously anyway.

“Should I come find you when I get up?”

“I’ll be here,” Duo says, but thinks it through. “But no. Take some time in the arboretum.” He meets Heero’s eyes. “Remember. I’ll come find you when I’m done.”

Heero gives him a final little nod and goes off to climb into their bunk. Duo bets he only sleeps for five hours—neither of them really needs much more than that, but the First Festival is emotionally draining, not physically. Remembering, for them, is the hardest part.

.o0o.o0o.o0o.

Duo smells of sugar and baking when he goes to find Heero in the arboretum. It’s an elaborate name for what isn’t a garden quite as much as a plant room, but most ships use the frilly term. He’s exhausted from all the work, because cooking and baking _are_ work, but it’s a good exhausted—the tiredness of a day well-spent. He’s got several more days of this to look forward to, but he’s able to steal a couple cookies for himself and Heero for his good work.

“Hey,” he says, moving in to where Heero is seated. The plant room is as good as a church on most long-haul ships, and on Spacer ships in particular. Natural green and growing things are good for the mental health of the crew, in addition to providing natural air recycling. He’s not surprised to see that the boxes and pots are strung in blue and red lights, and the larger plants, such as some of the bonsai, have ornaments on them. A little bit of dirtsider Christmas that Spacers retained, though the ornaments are attached far more securely than ornaments on Earth trees would be. Even on a ship the size of _Second Star_ , artificial gravity isn’t a given.

“Hey,” Heero greets him in return. There’s a frown between his brows, and Duo reaches over to rub at it with his thumb.

“Looks like you’ve been taking the mandate seriously,” Duo comments, but he doesn’t ask. It’s beyond rude to ask what people remember in a place of sanctuary like the arboretum is.

Heero sighs, something that Duo has come to appreciate in the last six or so months. It used to be much more difficult for Heero to indicate he was struggling with anything. He does sigh at Duo sometimes, though it’s often more fond than not, but as a tiny expression of frustration with things he’s struggling with, it’s a breakthrough.

“I was thinking about all the lives we took during the war… how many families we tore apart.”

Duo sits on the bench next to him, reaching his arms around to lace his fingers over Heero’s far shoulder while he rests his head on the nearer one. “It was war,” he reminds, gently, though not for the first time.

“I know,” Heero says, reaching a hand up to grip Duo’s forearm where it passes across his collarbone. It’s just a grounding touch, comforting, neither asking Duo to move nor wanting him to. “I still wish it hadn’t been necessary.”

For all his hard exterior, Heero’s heart is somehow much more fragile than Duo’s. Realizing that had made Duo fall in love with him, but he’s still not always the best at dealing with Heero’s guilt. Duo doesn’t carry it the way Heero does, and Heero won’t talk to anyone but Duo about it, and even Duo only sparingly.

“We remember,” Duo says. “We don’t dwell. Remembering is good. Where we came from. The people who made us who we are. But dwelling is not productive. We want to remember and honor, not pity ourselves or mourn things that we cannot change. That’ll be part of recognition too, recognizing that what has been done is beyond our ability to change. If we owe recompense, we plan it. If we are owed retribution, we can begin to seek it. But we have to recognize that the past is now set.”

Heero leans into him a little bit, resting his head on Duo’s. “I know that,” he says, so soft Duo almost doesn’t hear it. He may know it, but he’s still struggling to believe it. Duo can let him do that on his own. Then he adds, “You smell like cookies,” taking a deep inhale of Duo’s hair.

Chuckling, Duo lets him change the topic. It’s an obvious tactic, but Heero’s still not the most subtle person Duo’s ever met. “What did you expect, with me baking all day?”

“But you were making cake.”

“At the beginning of the rotation,” Duo reminds, sitting up, then pulling out the napkin with his cookies. “One for each of us.”

“You haven’t already had enough?” Heero asks, but Duo can hear the teasing in his voice.

“I’ll have you know I didn’t eat any! I waited till I could share these with you! They’re your first Festival cookies, right?”

Heero eyes the cookie in his hand curiously. “This is a cookie?” he asks. “It looks more like a chip.”

“It’s a cookie,” Duo assures, taking his own and popping it into his mouth. It melts almost like a candy on his tongue, a caramel-like sweetness teasing him as it disappears. Heero watches him as he moans in appreciation, then pops his into his mouth after sniffing it suspiciously.

His mouth works for a moment before he swallows.

“Well?” Duo asks, curious.

“It’s good. Not too sweet. I’m not sure I’m a fan of my cooking melting like that though.”

Duo laughs. “For my first Festivals, I think I ate three whole batches of these. They’re so light, they’re easy to overindulge in. G was so mad, I thought he was going to space me for sure—apparently they’re his favorites. Howard just laughed at him so hard, he cried.”

Heero frowns. “I think I want another one,” he says, as if perplexed by the idea.

“They’re addictive too. They’re usually some of the first treats gone at Third Festival.” Heero made a _hn_ sound, the same not-answer he used to make during the war that made Duo _crazy_ but he now knows Heero usually just uses when he’s not sure what to say. “So, I need a shower, but what do you say to making me _really_ need that shower first?”

It earns him an eyebrow raised in curiosity. “I would have thought that First Festival would be a time of abstinence.”

He doesn’t mean to, but Duo snorts. “They are all Festivals. Remembering who you have with you is also part of remembering.” He strokes Heero’s face, then darts in for a quick kiss. Heero cups the back of his head, deepening the kiss. Duo chases the remnants of the cookie’s flavor on Heero’s tongue. When they break the kiss, Heero leans their foreheads together.

“We should go back to our bunk,” he says.

“Marco will definitely put us on double rotations if we get caught having sex in here again, even if it’s Festivals, so yes,” Duo agrees, citing the current Sweepers leader.

Heero releases the back of Duo’s head to stand, holding his hand out to him. “Then we shouldn’t get caught,” he points out, as if it’s the most logical response.

Duo grins, taking his hand, letting himself get pulled to his feet and Heero’s chest.

“No we should not,” he agrees with a wicked grin.

_Second Festival ~ Walkers Recognize_

Duo runs down the hall, dodging other Spacers moving toward the viewing window in the opposite direction. They’re on totally opposite schedules because Marco likes to test Duo’s patience, but it means that their free time overlaps, so he can deal with it. They were only allowed berth on the _Second Star_ because of Howard vouching for them. Duo would be welcome on virtually any Spacer ship. Spacers knew one of their own had been a pilot, and the pilots had become nearly revered figures among Spacers, though Duo is the only one who is easily recognized on description alone. While being a pilot would get Heero fairly free use of Spacer ships at need, it wouldn’t have gotten him a _job_ on one. Hitching was one thing. Hitching over the Festivals would have been out of the question, even for a pilot.

It meant that Heero had never seen the lights.

He hit the door sensor and stuck his head in their bunk. “Stars bright! Get up!” he singsonged. Ever since Heero nearly broke the neck of poor Gemmy, who made the very ill-advised decision to try to wake Heero up without Duo, no one dares wake Heero.

Heero startles awake, but Duo’s voice is safe enough that he’s not automatically reaching for weapons. Not that he really _has_ any. Duo confiscated all his guns and put them in lockdown months ago—Spacers, as a general rule, are not fond of guns—and he really isn’t the knife fan that Duo is.

Then again, Heero really doesn’t _need_ weapons.

“Status?” Heero asks.

As soon as Heero is sitting up, Duo steps in and pulls out Heero’s mag boots and tosses them at him. “Black, bleeding Death, will you just _come on_?” Duo asks while Heero rubs his eyes. He had only been asleep for about an hour, so even for Heero, it takes a moment for his brain to click over.

“Why?” he asks, sounding irritated.

“It’s the start of Second Festival. Come _on_.” He steps into the room, grabs Heero’s wrist and starts dragging on it.

“I don’t know what that means,” Heero points out, irritated, but he’s sliding his mag boots on, so progress.

Duo rolls his eyes. “That’s the _point_. Just come with me, and I’ll explain.”

“Like you haven’t been explaining the last four days?”

“You are really insisting on being a brat about that, aren’t you?”

Heero glares.

“I told you, Festival traditions are preserved _orally_.”

“There should still be documentation on the internet,” Heero says, but his boots are on and he’s getting up. Duo grabs his hand and tows him along until they reach the main viewing window. Not all Spacer ships have ones, but _Second Star_ is a freight-class ship, as befits the head of a Spacer House. It’s not the size of _Peacemillion_ , but it’s not _that_ far behind in terms of square meterage. But where the _Peacemillion_ had been a battleship, most Spacer ships are commercial. They’re all armed—space pirates are not a myth—but they aren’t battleships or fighters. And the big ones?

They have observation decks.

Duo doesn’t hesitate to stick his mag boots to the wall and start climbing up. Most walls in Spacer ships are their Spacer versions of rock walls, and the artificial gravity in ships isn’t always consistent, so just like in space stations of old, all of the vertical space is often useable. Following Duo’s lead without much thought, Heero keeps pace with him, until they’re over three meters off the floor. He’s at the ceiling and reaches out to pull a handhold free, then basically monkey bars out until he finds one of the ladders and pulls it loose, only letting it drop a couple feet before locking it in place. He hooks a knee over a bar, leans his arms on the top rung, and settles in. Heero mimics his position on the other side, hanging several feet above the tallest Spacer.

“So, are you going to tell me what this is about?” Heero asks.

“I told you,” Duo says, grinning. “It’s Second Festival.”

And color blossoms in space.

Duo remembers how he felt the first time he got to see the Walkers’ Aurora. On Earth, they had fireworks and Northern Lights, but the Walkers’ Aurora was somewhere in between. Duo had no idea how they did it—no one was willing to share the secrets with Duo yet, no matter who he was—but it was a unique experience.

Rather than watching the lights, though, Duo found himself watching Heero, watching his face open, the soft wonder in his eyes, the colors reflecting his eyes and dancing across his face.

“What does this have to do with recognizing?” Heero’s voice is almost a whisper, unwilling to break the nearly reverent quiet. Spacers are almost never quiet. They tend to be loud and boisterous, pushy, willing to yell to be heard.

Duo turns his attention back to the lights in time to catch another wave that breaks and dissipates, reminding him of some magical wave. “We recognize the gifts we’ve been given, the debts we owe, and those we must repay. We recognize those we still have and are show the black our gratitude. It’s a time of appreciating being together, recognizing that to be a Walker is to be part of a community, a part of a family,” he explains, keeping his voice low but not a whisper. “It’s about being grateful for all we have and who we have, as well as a time of taking an accounting of who we owe and what we are owed.” He turns back to look at Heero’s profile. “And there’s a lot of eating.”

Heero glances sideways at him before focusing back on the Walkers’ Aurora. Duo doesn’t blame him; he remembers how transfixed he was the first couple of years. Even the veteran Spacers, the ones who have seen this every year for most of their lives, watch with hushed joy.

“You would focus on the food,” Heero says, but there’s a soft note of teasing in his voice, and the hand that isn’t helping him keep balances reaches tentatively in Duo’s direction.

Duo tangles their fingers with no hesitation, settling in to watch the rest of the Aurora from the best seat in the house.

_Third Festival ~ Walkers Rejoice_

The lights of maybe hundreds of Spacer ships create their own constellation in the Black as Duo approaches. Surrounding a central hollow, the largest freighters are berthed, tethered to one another, a six-pointed star with a void where the _Second Star_ is aimed for. Each point on the star is for a Spacer House, with Sweepers being the last to arrive. From each House Flagship, the ships of the extended family are arrayed like spokes, each ship tethered to one another, making a massive, temporary space station of Spacers. It makes Duo think of an ornament hanging in space—fitting for the Festivals.

Duo maneuvers the ship through the tight quarters, watching through both the windows and instrumentation carefully. He knows what an honor it is to be the one to bring a Flagship into the Third Festival, and while it isn’t hard, it deserves his full attention. Heero has been permitted to be on the bridge in deference to his role in the war, but Marco was clear that he is an observer.

Hails are coming in on the radio, welcoming the Sweepers flagship into its place over the background of Christmas music. Duo has never really had a home, but if he did, he thinks this is what coming home might feel like.

As he hits the thrusters to bring the ship to a halt, Marco pats his shoulder, and when Duo glances up, Macro is grinning.

“Smooth sailing,” he says with approval. “Steady hands, steady ship.”

Duo smiles back. “Steel in sight?” he checks in.

“Always,” Marco confirms. He opens the line from their side, and says, “ _Second Star to the Right_ berthed. Seven Houses make a seven-point star. Walkers rejoice.”

A chorus of replies come in, spilling over one another, “Walkers rejoice!” and “Sweepers _banzai_!”

It’s the first year that the Sweepers are to open the festivities, so their arrival is pretty much the formal kickoff.

The instrumentation shows that several ships are being docked to the _Second Star_. This is why they move the Festivals every year, why Spaces don’t talk about them. Spacers are always careful—they respect the Black, know exactly how harsh and unforgiving it can be—but the Third Festival, when they gather like this, is something unique, and if anyone wanted to seriously harm Spacers, it would be an ideal time to target them.

Marco pats Duo’s shoulder again. “Done well, you have. Go. Rejoice.” He glances at where Heero has been watching quietly. “Show your flier how Walkers rejoice.”

Duo raises an eyebrow. “My flier?” he asks. Heero has been the _ringlover_ all year.

Shrugging, Marco says, “He is yours, isn’t he?”

When Duo glances over at Heero—it’s not like they’re having this conversation in a void—amusement dances in Heero’s eyes. “Guess he is,” Duo says. “02 out. Sweeper takes the helm.” He gets up, letting Marco take his place. As the head of the Sweepers, Marco _is_ the Sweeper.

“Sweeper at the helm,” Marco says as Duo goes to Heero.

“Whatcha think?” he asks, leaning against the wall next to him, close enough to feel the warm that Heero always radiates.

“I have no idea how you hide this,” he admits, but he doesn’t sound particularly critical about it. If anything, he sounds grudgingly impressed.

“Being sneaky is in Walker blood,” Duo informs cheerfully. “And you mean _we_.”

“We?”

“Marco called you a flier. That makes you one of us,” Duo informs, tapping Heero’s nose.

Heero bats his hand away. “So what’s next?”

“Next? Didn’t you hear them?” Duo asks, feeling the smile spread across his face. “Next we rejoice.”

He grabs Heero’s hands and pulls him off the bridge.

.o0o.o0o.o0o.

It’s the end of the third day of the Third Festival. Even through the door and walls, the soft beat of Christmas music can be heard lingering in the background as they come down from an enthusiastic round of sex. The days have been the same dizzying combination of socializing, frankly obscene amounts of food—not a bit goes to waste among Spacers, at least—and a celebratory energy that seems to infuse the very air on all the ships that Duo remembers. Some stolen private time with Heero is a nice break though, even for him. 

“I still don’t get it,” Heero admits.

Duo laces his fingers together on Heero’s chest and props his chin up on them. “Don’t get what?”

“Third Festival. Is it Christmas? Is it Hanukkah? Is it Kwanzaa? I’ve even heard Indian chants and music that sounds like it belongs in an old English tavern.”

He really shouldn’t laugh, but Heero sounds so _perplexed_ by it all, and if he’s finally said something, he’s been trying to work it out for days. “It’s all of them,” Duo explains. “And none of them.” He can tell by the look on Heero’s face that the explanation doesn’t satisfy. “Most of the original Walkers, they came from nothing. In a lot of cases, they were orphans who didn’t even really have any particular cultural upbringing. I remember being a kid and watching all the different holidays in November and December and feeling like I was always outside of them. Like they weren’t for me.”

Something in Heero’s eyes soften as he pushes some of Duo’s hair behind his ear. “I thought holidays were for people with families.” _Not for us_ , he doesn’t say, but Duo hears it anyway.

“ _Exactly_ ,” Duo says. “I think most of the original Walkers felt the same way—the big holidays, they weren’t for them. So they decided to just… kind of take them all. If they weren’t for them, then they were going to make them _all_ for them. And if anyone came in who _did_ have traditions—the Washers were originally Jewish, I think—they just integrated them. The Third Festival is about celebration. If there’s any part of a holiday that you like, you just take it. Make it your own. Most of the Houses have traditions specific to them, and then there are traditions that are broader across all Walkers. Christmas is obviously a heavy influence, but Hanukkah, Kwanzaa, Diwali, Thanksgiving, even Solstice are all popular.”

“The medieval music is from the solstice celebrations?”

“Yup. For some, being out in the Black makes them religious, makes them believe more in the big g God. For others, the old gods of space and stars are more popular, so they pull on old pagan traditions. I mean, most of it is jumbled together from stuff they probably researched and decided to adapt, but it works. Walkers really don’t care what you believe over the Festivals or what you’re celebrating. We just care that you celebrate. That you rejoice.”

Heero strokes his hand down Duo’s back as he cards his fingers through Duo’s hair. He’s quiet for a minute before he says, “I can’t decide if that’s complicated, simple, or just a very Spacer thing.”

Duo grins. “I go with ‘a very Spacer thing.’ No one who had a lot of anything really became a Spacer way back when. Honestly, even now, people who join the Walkers don’t have much. We’re a great big troupe of misfits, determined to make a place for us, even if no one else will.”

That gets him a small smile from Heero. “That _does_ sound like a very Spacer thing.” He moves his hand back up to lightly scratch at Duo’s scalp, making Duo all but purr in pleasure. “This was a good idea.”

“Hmm?”

“Coming to stay with the Spacers— _Walkers_ ,” he corrects. “This is… it’s been good.”

Duo hums in agreement. “It’s been a good year,” he says. “I hear a ‘but’ though.”

“I feel…” he trails off. Frankly, the fact that he even _started_ that sentence with the words _I feel_ is a massive achievement.

“Like it’s been a nice vacation, but it can’t last?” Duo offers.

“I’ve never really had a vacation, but it feels… undemanding? Lazy? Even though we’ve been part of the crew…”

“We’ve almost always had a goal. A purpose. At least a mission, right? Something we had to _do_. This has been fun, but I know what you’re saying. I’m starting to feel restless. Like there’s something we should be doing?” he offers.

Heero nods, looking relieved. “Exactly.”

“There’s only two more days of the Festival, and Walkers will start breaking off as early as tomorrow. For some of them, five days of celebration is a little much,” he says with a leer. It gets a soft chuckle from Heero. “I got a message from Quatre. He wants to get together over Christmas proper. It’s the anniversary of the Eve Wars, and we haven’t seen the others since. Might be nice to see them again. Maybe they’ll have some ideas for us.”

“Maybe,” Heero concedes. “There’s the new Preventers organization Une is heading up.”

“Yeah… can we maybe not talk about Une when we’re naked in bed?” Duo asks with an exaggerated shudder. “Dunno what the World Security Whatever is thinking there.”

Heero shrugs. “Just a thought.”

“One I can throw farther in a gravity well than I trust.” He reaches up and brushes Heero’s bangs aside, then leans up and kisses him. “We’ve got time to figure it out,” he says when he breaks it. “And in the meantime, there are two days of Festival left, and we have no responsibilities until then. So what are you going to do with me?” He bats his eyes.

The hand that had been carding through his hair moves to cup the back of Duo’s head and Heero sits up enough to kiss him again, rolling them carefully until Duo is beneath him. Their cocks rub against one another, getting harder, and Heero takes them both in his hand, rocking them together.

There’s not enough room between them for Duo to do anything, so he’s forced to just cling to Heero as he seems determined to draw this out, whining into his mouth, trying to press them closer, as if they could actually meld into one person.

Duo breaks the kiss to gasp, “Need you.”

“You have me,” Heero replies, kissing him again.

When they come, Duo right on Heero’s heels, it’s an almost tender thing, a kind of pleasure that warms Duo from inside. He tangles his hands in Heero’s hair as he kisses him again, kisses tapering to fleeting touches, but as if they’re trying to stop but can’t quite manage it, until Heero finally pulls away to lay his head on Duo’s chest.

It’s Duo’s turn to card his hand through Heero’s hair, ignoring the mess between them for at least a little bit, enjoying the weight of Heero, solid and heavy and real, pressing into him. Over Duo’s heart, Heero’s finger traces the shapes of _su_ and _ki_.

 _Love you_.

Against Heero’s shoulder, Duo traces his reply.

ミ二

Me too.

 _Walkers rejoice_.

**Author's Note:**

> -suki; すき : I like you/love you. The Japanese is pretty ambiguous to the degree of like/love or the nuance of it, but it's pretty much the standard of admitting "I love you," and it's two little kana, so it would be as simple to write out as "I <3 U."  
> -me too; mi ni; ミ二 : Duo started this, so he played with the language, using the katakana (for foreign words) for the syllable mi (ミ) and the kanji for the number two (二).  
>  **Spacespeak** – Spacer Linguistics Refresher (since I assume most of my readers are already familiar with this):  
> -Spacerspeak tends to subject drop a lot. It tends to make it sound a little uneducated, but I actually like that fact. Addressing someone directly or referring to your self directly (you, I) is typically considered rude, so if you have to refer to someone, they’ll move the subject to the end (i.e. “Done well, you have.”) It ends up sounding Yoda-speak, but I happen to like that effect. I really should have Duo codeswitching more (dropping into Spacespeak more), but he’s mostly talking to Heero, and he tends to codeswitch back to a more standard dialect with Heero. 
> 
> • Walker – What Spacers call themselves (from spacewalker)  
> • Crawler – any outsider, indifferent to colonists or Earthers. This is the term Spacers use to Crawlers. It’s not exactly rude, but it’s not exactly not, either.  
> • Bug – outsider (again, indifferent to colonists or Earthers), but usually only used with “in” groups, not especially rude  
> • Worm – outsider, derogatory  
> • Ringlover – colonist (think landlubber)  
> • Flier – someone who moves between Walker and Crawler communities, particularly a Spacer who spends time down a gravity well.  
> • Dirtsider – anyone born and raised on Earth. It’s not really polite, but it’s not any ruder than “jerk.”  
> • “Black at back/Steel in sight.” – this is a reminder that became a greeting and a status check among Spacers. When you’re spacewalking, make sure you keep the black[space] at your back and the steel [ship] in your sight.


End file.
